True Love Brides 02 - The Highlander’s Curse (36 page)

“But Coinneach was not pleased with his son, and here again, she heard the influence of Rowena. He declared that he had wanted his son to resemble him, to be dark of hair and green of eye, to be rugged and hale and strong. He felt the boy was weak and would die young, an unfitting heir for his lineage.”

Rowena smiled darkly at this, even as Annelise watched and feared this tale could have no good ending.

Garrett was aware that the men guarding the dungeons had been beguiled by Florine’s voice. He felt them slide into a stillness that was unnatural, their thoughts spinning as they tried to make sense of their state.

This was his chance.

Unfortunately, Stewart too was enchanted and could not be of aid to him as yet.

“I will leave the portal unlocked,” he whispered to Stewart, as he took the key from that man’s hiding place. “Move with speed when the spell is broken.” He waited for the warrior’s acknowledging thought, then turned the key in the lock. He walked past his guards, hearing their shock and dismay. He removed their weapons and put two in the dungeon with Stewart, taking the rest.

The true challenge lay before him, though, from those Fae who were not enchanted.

And he did not know how many of them were in Killairig’s hall.

*

Andrew leapt up the stairs to the highest room in the tower, taking them three at a time. He did not doubt that his mother would be judged for what she had done. It was possible that he could be of assistance to her in this moment, but he did not care.

He would ensure his own advantage first.

Andrew’s concern was the realm of mortal men. Garrett MacLachlan was in Killairig’s dungeons. He did not expect his mother to lose any contest, for it was in her nature to win at all costs. She would not release Garrett again. Even if she lost the battle, she would take down Killairig with her, and Garrett would not leave this abode soon.

Andrew needed to seize this opportunity to secure his future in the realm of mortal men. Perhaps his mother was deliberately creating a chance for him.

Perhaps she might have wished for his assistance. He might have cared more, if his mother had not cheated him of his due before he had been able even to speak a word.

Rowena was the one who had insisted Andrew have no Fae gifts save his longevity, good looks and melodious voice. She was the one who had crippled his chances for success by choosing that he should be as much like a mortal man as possible.

She had given him little and he owed her less.

At least she had taught him to seize every advantage. While Garrett was imprisoned, the people in Killairig were enchanted and his mother was distracted, Andrew would appeal to a higher authority, at least among mortal men. He would take the seal and signet to the king in Edinburgh. He would make his claim for Killairig, and be invested by the king himself.

And woe to Garrett MacLachlan if he still survived in the dungeon when Andrew returned as Laird of Killairig.

*

Florine walked back and forth in the great hall, her words as musical when she spoke as when she sang. Annelise was transfixed, as were all the others.

“Florine heard her husband’s lustful thoughts about Rowena and was dismayed when Coinneach took her as a lover. He came no more to Florine’s bed and never spoke to her, his love for her apparently forgotten. When Rowena conceived, Florine was filled with anger and a need to see justice done. She had not avenged her father because of her love for Coinneach, but her husband had betrayed her. She had never yet taken the form of a wolf in Coinneach’s abode, but she would do it to keep her promise to her mother.

“But Rowena knew Florine’s nature and thus guessed her intent. She was determined to have Coinneach herself, mostly so her sister’s marriage could be destroyed. She told Coinneach that Florine meant to steal his son and his coin, that she was taking his treasure to a neighboring laird who would attack and defeat him. She convinced Coinneach that Florine was determined to destroy him, and he believed her.

“When Florine ran away one night, Rowena awakened Coinneach and led him in pursuit of his wife. He brought his sword and his knife, along with his fury. But Florine stopped abruptly, set her son on the ground and raised her hands to the moon. Coinneach was shocked to see his wife become a white wolf.

“Rowena did not miss her opportunity. She cried that Florine was a witch, then seized Florine’s clothes and burned them. She knew Florine would not be able to change back to her human form without her clothes. The white wolf howled as if in pain, then with its jaws, snatched the cloth that swaddled the child and fled into the forest.

“When Coinneach would have pursued the wolf, a foul wind rose. It lashed the trees and stripped their leaves. The hail fell with equal ferocity, pounding down upon the pair without mercy. When the storm halted, there was no sign of the wolf or the boy. No one ever found them, although Rowena tried.

“In truth, the Fae had intervened. Florine’s son was taken into their care, while Florine remained a white wolf running free in the forest. A glamour was cast to defend Florine’s son from his aunt and he was given to a Fae who chose a mortal life to raise him to the best of her abilities.

“At Killairig, Rowena soon presented Coinneach with a son, one whom the laird did not realize was half Fae. And the Laird of Killairig took Rowena as his wife. Once she held the title of his lady, Rowena began to poison Coinneach, not just filling his mind with lies but filling his body with toxin. Coinneach grew feeble and slow of wit, and Rowena took control of all he should have managed on his own. Thus she ensured that he could not change his thinking about her son. She had no desire for a regency, for power could be wrested from her while her son was young, so she allowed Coinneach to live until her son reached manhood. So intent was she upon ensuring her son would gain all she believed he deserved that she raised the taxes and demanded ever more labor of the people—even while she and her children lived in luxury. When any soul protested, he or she disappeared forever, or returned beaten and bruised. And so the people of Killairig became convinced that they would end their days in hunger and poverty, even as they feared to speak a word of protest.”

Florine stopped. The hall was utterly silent, every gaze fixed upon her. She took the last few steps toward Rowena.

“Until the son of Florine and Coinneach stepped out of the glamour cast by the Fae and came to Killairig himself to claim his stolen birthright.”

“Nay,” Rowena whispered. “I forbid it.”

“Aye,” Florine said and raised a hand to gesture. Annelise’s heart galloped as Garrett stepped out of the shadows, his clothing and body mired, but his gaze clear. He carried a small dagger. He walked toward Rowena, who scurried backward in her dismay. She flung curses at him and what Annelise believed must be spells, but she hastened away from him all the while, her fear obvious. “You killed my daughter!” she cried.

“After she killed the only parents I had ever known. Two innocents who deserved a finer fate.” Garrett paused to consider her. “You killed my father and blamed an innocent man for the crime.”

Rowena opened her mouth but no words came out. She had no defense, but her eyes flashed as she shredded the last of her glamour. She tipped back her head and screamed, making the stones tumble from the walls. The rain poured down into the now-roofless hall and the ground shook beneath their feet.

Yet none of them could move.

Save Garrett. Florine stood motionless and Rowena spun to flee.

Garrett immediately threw the knife across the hall. Annelise watched as it spun through the air, then buried itself in Rowena’s back. She stood for a moment, wavering, then turned to look at him. Her mouth opened in shock and gasped aloud.

Rowena fell to the ground, seizing the wolf pelt as she collapsed. Her blood flowed into the fur as she buried her face in the pelt.

Then she became a wolf with fur as black as midnight.

Florine crossed the room to kneel beside her sister. “I forgive you,” she whispered, though all the room could hear it. “I forgive you, Rowena, for you had the strength to see our parents avenged upon Coinneach when I could not.”

The wolf gasped, then Rowena was lying dead on the floor, blood all around her. Florine bent and kissed the cheek of the still woman before her, and her tears changed to flowers as they fell.

Garrett went to his mother’s side and they embraced.

“I wish it could have been otherwise,” Florine whispered and Garrett nodded.

It took Annelise a moment to realize that Florine’s spell had been broken and she could move again.

She realized as much because Orson seized her arm. “I will still have my prize,” he whispered, then hauled her from the board.

*

Garrett spun at the dismay in Orson’s thoughts, only to see the knight hauling Annelise forcibly from the hall. The knight’s mind was filled with fury and confusion. He did not know what to do and could not accept the fullness of his failure. He knew that Annelise was a maiden no longer, but had fixed upon taking her to wife. Florine’s spell seemed to have muddled him further, for his thoughts simply churned.

He thought of fealty and duty.

He thought of failure.

He thought it preferable to end his own life, even though he would be damned, than to face the wrath of the Earl of March.

Garrett feared the worst. He ran after the knight, tripping the squire when the boy might have come to the knight’s aid. What had happened to Andrew? Florine must have left him enchanted elsewhere. Garrett did not have time to seek him out, not if he was going to save Annelise.

Orson had already pulled Annelise into the bailey. The rain was slanting down, and lightning flashed overhead. The cobblestones were slick underfoot and the guards were only just rousing themselves from Florine’s spell. Some of the walls had crumbled and the others might well be unsteady.

Orson made for the stables but Annelise fought him with vigor far removed from her usual mild manner. She struck him and he hit her across the face.

Garrett shouted but the sound was lost in the thunder. The storm lashed at the keep, a frenzy in the air. Was this tumult the result of Rowena’s death? Garrett had to wonder, even as the wind kept him from pursuing Annelise with any speed, and the rain bore down upon him.

“My horse!” Orson cried, but the ostler barred the door to the stable against him. The horses, too, were stamping in their stalls.

“Only a fool would ride in this weather,” snapped the ostler. “And I will not risk the horse!”

“Disobedience!” Orson roared. “Insubordination! I shall see you flogged…”

But the ostler slammed the door, and Garrett heard the bolt shoot home.

Orson surveyed the bailey like a caged animal, then spotted Garrett. Annelise, Garrett saw with relief, had not ceased to fight her assailant. There was a fire in her eyes that he gave him hope.

All the same, Orson was taller and stronger. The gates were barred against the night, so he pulled her up the stairs to the parapet where the sentries usually walked. On this night, the narrow walk was empty. Garrett pursued them both, losing sight of them in the wind and rain at the top of the wall.

He followed the sound of Orson’s troubled thoughts.

And found the pair, backed into the corner. Killairig was built with one large tower that faced the sea. The bailey was on the inland side of the tower, high walls enclosing it. The gates were opposite the tower. The walls, though, were shorter than the tower, and for this reason, the sentries’ walk did not completely encircle the keep: it began at the tower, circled over the gates, then terminated at the other side of the tower. Orson, in not understanding the design, had miscalculated. He held Annelise against him, his knife at her throat, even as the rain poured down. He was against the tower, with nowhere else to flee, and Garrett barricading the sole path of escape. The sea churned behind Orson, looking dark and ominous.

“She was to be mine!” he roared when he saw Garrett, and his knife pushed into Annelise’s flesh. “You cannot steal from me, not the likes of you!”

The lady gasped and Garrett saw her blood flow on the knife. He halted. “I do not understand your meaning,” he said, wanting only to calm the knight’s erratic thoughts.

“You are common born! I am noble. She is noble. Like to like is what I always learned.”

“But he is not common born,” Annelise corrected. “He will be Laird of Killairig.”

“Nay,” Orson protested, but Annelise struggled to put some distance between the knife and her throat. She managed to get a finger beneath the blade.

Garrett had never felt so helpless in his life.

“He will have a holding while you do not,” she continued, and her comment enraged the knight. “He will have
this
holding. And he will have me as his wife.”

“You could have brought me a holding. With your hand in mine, I would have been granted one. You have defied me and challenged me…”

“I would not have made a good wife for you,” Annelise concluded.

Orson looked down at her. “So, you think I will surrender you to him?” he asked with disdain and deliberately sliced the finger she held beneath the blade. Annelise caught her breath and moved her hand away instinctively, which let Orson put the knife against her throat again. “I would instead see you rewarded for all you have done,” he said, his voice silky with intent. “I will have none of my dreams, and you, who have stolen them from me, will be cheated of yours as well.”